A Change In Perspective
by onthewayside
Summary: The horizon is a lonely place, particularly when seen through her eyes... ShepWeir


**Spoilers**: A hint at "The Long Goodbye", but not much else that I can think of.

**Disclaimer**: Stargate Atlantis and its many characters don't belong to me. I just like to play around with them.

**Note**: I just couldn't resist—cute, hinted-at romances do that sort of thing to my brain. So out came a fic that kept nagging at me until I wrote it. The ending could have been a little less cheesy though, but I tend to get overly critical, so I'll let whoever reads this decide. It's my first fic for this show, so I'd more than appreciate feedback on my characterization. I can only hope I've done them some sort of justice.

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**A Change In Perspective**

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Her first thought since emerging into the outdoors is that the horizon is a lonely place.

She stands at her usual spot, overlooking the sea, the cool metal chilling her arms as she rests them against the railing. The breeze is gentle this evening, barely stirring her hair as she gazes out over the wide expanse of water that serves as the backdrop to her achievements and to her failures. There is no sound, save for the muted lapping of the waves at the sturdy barriers of the city, and she decides that silence is perhaps the most perfect sound she could ever hope to hear.

When that silence disappears, it usually means something has gone wrong in this watery bliss she knows as home. It means that there is the possibility of destruction, of fear, of chaos and of loss. Loss of those she cares for—those she rules over and those she shares that rule with. Only when her ears pick up nothing but the ocean's rhythmic lullaby does she let herself breathe a little easier, a little deeper.

She decides that she likes the loneliness too. She likes the empty stretch where sky meets water. She enjoys knowing that there is nothing out there, nothing that could haunt her at night, nothing that could disturb the peace she has begun rebuilding once more. She is no stranger to emptiness, to solitude, and she has started to acknowledge that her horizon will always be that way.

With great power comes great responsibility. With it also come great burdens that no one else, save for one, can bear. Two years ago, she offered her shoulders to bear the weight of an entire city, and that offer was accepted. She understands now what her burden is, just as she understands that for every decision she makes the outcome of that will rest on her shoulders, and her shoulders alone. Others may make the mistakes but she reasons that they would probably not have made those mistakes if she herself had not given the orders to execute the mission in the first place.

Sometimes she has to fight the urge to play it safe. To stop jeopardizing the men and women who signed up to become explorers but found themselves as soldiers instead. To keep the ones who have found their way into her heart safe from the evils that lurk around every corner she turns. She wonders if things would be easier if she hadn't let herself care so much, wonders if the weight on her shoulders would lighten, then quickly shakes that feeling off.

No, she wouldn't be Elizabeth if she didn't care.

She can't help but care, it's in her nature, her blood. As much as it hurts to lose them, she knows that her heart will never be able to shut itself off from letting others in. She likes to think that the people of Atlantis appreciate her deep attachment and concern for their wellbeing. She likes to think her friends feel the same way about her too, though she knows she can never be certain of it all.

That doesn't stop her from worrying over the teams when they go off world, nor when they return more bruised and battered than when they left. It doesn't stop her from regretting the many times she has put them all in danger, nor mourning the ones they have lost.

She is a leader, but she is not just any leader—she is Dr. Elizabeth Weir, in charge of the lost city of Atlantis. Although she finds it easy to lose herself in the tragedy and the fear, she always finds ways of fighting back to the surface. She needs to, otherwise she would not only lose the respect of her people, but her own beliefs as to her leadership skills. She has worked so hard to build up her confidence that losing it would damage her spirit beyond repair. So she forges ahead with each new plan, each new decision that she makes, hoping that her responses were adequate, that her newfound confidence will not be as badly shaken as it has been before.

She is a diplomat, a leader, a fighter, a friend—but most significantly, she is alone.

And she puts aside the nagging doubts in her heart to let her mind decide that the equally lonely horizon before her is where she is meant to be.

Just as she settles into the silence around her, the sound of the balcony doors interrupts the peace. She turns a little in her stance, just enough to see the intruder who has invaded her space.

She chides herself for being surprised at his arrival. He seems to enjoy the balcony as much as she does though she wonders if he ever comes out here alone. As far as she can tell, he only ever seems drawn here when she has already taken up her favourite space. She ignores the faint fluttery feeling in her stomach as best she can while she wonders what could have pulled him out here this particular evening.

His grin is careful, as though he is unsure of her reaction to his being there. She smiles, a little involuntarily, arching a brow as she waits for his response.

He cocks his head to one side, his eyes never leaving hers. "Carson said to tell you that Rodney is recovering well. He'll have some scars from all the claw marks and he'll be whining about the whole thing again and again for the next few months, but other than that, he'll be fine. Our good doctor is keeping him sedated though, so he won't do anything stupid like trying to move." He must have seen the questions in her eyes because he continued on without any verbal prompting from her. "Carson would've radioed, but he had this strange hope that you might be eating dinner and didn't want to interrupt. He also ordered me to drag you down to the mess hall myself if you weren't and force feed you if necessary."

"You know, you _do_ outrank him," She teases, heartened and a little wearied by the doctor's constant concern for her wellbeing.

He shrugs. "He has a point. You need to eat."

_And sleep, and finish a week's worth of reports, and somehow keep the city running all at the same time_, she mentally adds, but hesitates at saying it. She doesn't want her second in command thinking that she harbors some sort of self-pity. Instead, she turns back to the ocean and that ever-stretching horizon. "I'll be down there shortly. Just give me a few more minutes out here."

She realizes things have truly changed between them when, rather than turning away and going back into the confines of the city as he used to do, he joins her at the railing. He doesn't say a word, and yet she is even more strongly aware of his presence because of it. She can feel her chilled skin tingling at its close proximity to his arm, her shoulder and hip only inches from his. A small flame of longing ignites within her, but she forcefully pushes it aside. She reminds herself that she is one person and that she has to stay that way.

So when he starts speaking again, she carefully avoids looking at him, avoids meeting those eyes that can melt her resolve in a heartbeat.

"It wasn't your fault, Elizabeth," He says quietly, his voice rising above the ocean's sounds. "We needed to explore that cave—Rodney was sure that it was the cave the villagers had been talking about, the one that the Ancients may have used. The villagers never mentioned that there was more than one cave in the area, or that a really mean kitty liked to use one as his home."

Her sigh is barely audible, but she knows he hears it because he instinctively moves closer, his arm now only a hairsbreadth away from her own. "I know, John. It's just…I'm getting a little tired of sending people on seemingly 'harmless' missions then finding out I've really sent everyone to another doom."

"No one here can predict the future, even the almighty Dr. Weir," He points out. "You had no idea what would happen."

"But I should have thought it over more," She replies in a rare demonstration of doubt in her decision. Since her gaze is still focused on that omnipresent horizon she doesn't see the surprise filter into his expressive eyes. "I should have told you to scout out the area, maybe even wait for a day or so before barging in. If I had ordered you to look around first, you would have found the other caves, realized that there was more to it and left that one alone."

"Or we might have missed the other caves, or still have decided to look through that one first. Or there might have been other things in the other caves that could've done more damage to more of my team," He countered. "Look, you aren't responsible for Rodney panicking, or for him stepping on that cat-thing's tail. If he'd listened to me in the first place, I might have been able to get a clear shot and he wouldn't be moaning about a few scratches."

She hears the force behind his words and finally looks to him—really looks to him. And she doesn't see the blame she was dreading but simple understanding. Gratefulness wells up in her heart and she wants to tell him how much his words mean, but somehow her own words get caught in her throat.

He searches her gaze and he must see something he likes because the smile returns to his drawn face. "You're going to have to accept that we're not going to let you take responsibility for every little thing that goes wrong. You put too much pressure on yourself. Carson knows it, or he wouldn't be ordering you to have a bit of a normal life all the time. Teyla and Ronon know it, or they wouldn't be trying to help you any way they can. Heck, even McKay knows it, although he doesn't like to show it." He pauses, and she wonders why it seems as though the distance between them isn't as vast as it had been before. "Even _I_ know it, and my mother used to accuse me of being completely ignorant in noticing anything around me unless someone slapped me over the head with it first."

His grin, it seems, is catching—his humor definitely so—and she isn't surprised that she feels the corners of her lips quirk. He's always managed to make her smile, even when she's been awake for three days straight, worrying over whether or not he would return in one piece. Now more than ever she is grateful for having him at her side.

She wants to say so many things, to tell him just what she's been burying deep in heart, things she would be afraid to tell anyone else. She aches to wrap her arms around him, hold him close and reassure herself that he isn't going anywhere any time soon. She yearns to feel that smile against her lips, feel that heated gaze burn her skin as she shows him just how much he's come to mean to her. She wants to do it without having an alien influence as an excuse, she wants it to be as it should have been—shared between Elizabeth and John, not strangers.

She wants it all…and she knows she can't have it. He is a friend, yes, but she sincerely doubts he will be more than that. She can't let him be more than that if she wants to keep her sanity.

So instead of acting on her impulses, she turns back to the ocean and forces her eyes to focus on the emptiness, to focus on the life she has chosen for herself. The sea, the sky, the line where they meet is a reminder of that and she starts to think of a way of letting go of John so that she can finally settle into her solitary position without any more hesitation.

It is as she is carefully composing a gentle way of dismissing him when she feels his arm press against hers, his large hand dwarfing her own in its almost hesitant grasp.

She slants her gaze sideways, her brow creasing in confusion as she looks to the man who has somehow managed to start a crack growing in her otherwise solid wall of reasoning against getting too close to anyone around her. But he doesn't look to her, instead training his own gaze on the same horizon she has been watching.

Biting her lip, she shifts her eyes back to their original position, wishing that the empty expanse of air and water would once more look enticing and not so lonely. Or that if it had to look lonely, at least let her find comfort—not sorrow—in that.

It had taken her a good long while to come to terms with being alone. It was taking only one man's attentive touch to weaken those very same thoughts she had worked so hard to trust.

Her mind is screaming at her now, telling her to let it all go before its too late, but her heart wins. It knows it is too late, knows that her will has already lost to its seductive spell.

She hesitates before opening up her palm, turning it upward into his and she breathes a small sigh of relief as his fingers twine about hers in an intimate embrace. She worries that she will regret this tomorrow, when things have faded into the past and the present is suddenly a whole new problem. But still she cannot help but tighten her fingers, squeezing his in thanks.

Things she had once refused to consider start to filter into her suddenly open thoughts. She wonders if it is possible to be a good leader if she becomes involved with one of the people she has to lead. She wonders but practicality wins out and she knows that she cannot think on such terms yet. It is only his hand she holds—not his heart.

Closing her eyes, she savors the flickers of heat that burst through her nerves, enjoys the feeling of having him so close to her side. She believes this to be a stolen moment, one she can look back on with regret or with joy, a moment she can cling to when she is forced to put him in danger once more.

She doesn't realize her hand has convulsed tightly onto his, as though she is hanging on to him for dear life, but she notices when his arm shifts, pressing—if possible—even closer.

No matter how many times she may have quietly fantasized about moments like this, it doesn't prepare her for the press of his warm lips against her temple, his steady breath tickling the top of her head. He doesn't pull away, whispering her name where his lips had been, the roughened tone sending a shiver coursing down her spine. His lips move down to the corner of her eye, brushing her sensitive skin, before he rests his forehead against her hair.

"Elizabeth," He murmurs again, and her senses are rocked as the simple pleasure of hearing her name uttered so endearingly courses through her system. "As long as I'm around, you'll never be alone."

She is amazed at his astuteness, and wonders how his mother could have ever thought her son to be oblivious to the world. How he knows just what she had been thinking is a mystery to her, but it certainly isn't a terrible one to think about. They have always shared a comfortable relationship, but she hadn't realized how close it had become.

Until now.

She keeps her eyes squeezed shut but leans into him, no longer wishing to see that empty horizon taunting her, reminding her of what she is supposed to accept, of what is her duty.

Of what she is supposed to be.

She doesn't want to look, but she has to if only to settle her lingering worries. Her eyelids lift, and she is once again faced with that open space, that never-ending vista of oblivion but no longer does she feel drawn to lose herself in it. The man next to her is keeping her from doing that, grounding her to the balcony, to the moment that she had never dared to believe would ever come into existence.

Surprised by this sudden turnaround in her emotions, she shifts her head so that she can rest her gaze on his face. What she sees scares her and excites her at all at the same time. There in his eyes, she sees a horizon—another horizon that entices and coaxes and pleads with her to reach out to it, to find herself reflected there and not in an empty line of water and sky. A horizon that offers so much more than she had thought she could grasp.

"John…" She breathes his name, a soft smile playing across her lips as she realizes just how much she enjoys saying his name. His answering smile is sweet and full of relief and just a little wavering, as if he too isn't sure of the moment they have begun creating.

Comforted by the fact that he too is as unsteady in this newfound emotion, she winds her hand even more tightly through his. It seems this is the signal he has needed, for his free hand comes to rest on her cheek, brushing at a few wayward curls that have been tangled in the breeze.

She senses what is coming next, and she finally sets her fears aside so she can have this moment, the moment that she now realizes is not a moment but a promise of a future to come. She tilts her head upward, bringing her own free hand to rest on his arm as she at long last accepts the invitation. This is the real thing, and so far it has been more than she could have ever imagined. His smile turns into a playful smirk as he recognizes her answer, bringing his lips to within an inch of hers.

Just as she reaches to meet him halfway in the kiss, just as her eyes close once more, she thinks that she prefers the horizon that has always been staring her straight in the eye, the one she has refused to see until now.

And she thinks that maybe, just maybe, her horizon won't be so lonely after all.

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End file.
